


Liquid Silver Love

by Fallen_angel_of_time23



Series: Haylellujah Gift Fics [9]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is depressed, and drinking, drama demon, minor alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 20:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21203645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_angel_of_time23/pseuds/Fallen_angel_of_time23
Summary: Crowley is heartsick, and decides to lock himself away for a bit.





	Liquid Silver Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haylellujah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylellujah/gifts).

It was late. The clouds had long since masked the moon at its height, and the air held the chill of a forgotten sun. Starlight found its way through the crack in the blackout curtains, cutting shadows along the bedroom walls and floor, stopping at the foot of the bed. A figure sat on the duvet, back against the headboard, arms wrapped around bent knees. The empty forgotten bottle lay next to them, a dark shadow one shade off from the black of the sheets. 

With a slow stretch, the figure moved. Head now on the soft pillows, limbs sprawled out on the bed, bottle knocked to the floor without a care. They stared at the ceiling, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, a golden contrast to the silver light on the floor. They turned their head to watch the shadows on the wall across from the window. The leaves swayed gently in the breeze, making their shadows dance with grace. The figure likened it to the soft movement of wings, and looked away quickly. 

Angel wings. 

That was the pain they were trying to escape. The way their muscles tightened with tension, heart ached, throat burned, eyes watered, and bones felt heavy, was evidence enough they shouldn't be thinking about this. Let alone wanting to _see_ him. The fire that raced up their spine made them convulse on the bed. Yeah, this was not good. 

Their vision fell to the window, the crack in the curtains. A dry, weary breath of laugh pushed past their lips at how that image reflected their situation. Curtains as black as their soul. No wait. Curtains almost as black as their soul. No light ever touching its tainted, dark depths. Long past savable. Long past worthy of kindness and love. Just black. Void. A nothingness deep within them. Evil. Demon. 

But then, oh the beauty of the silver moonlight! How soft it looks. Shimmering like water. Pure, beautiful, liquid silver. Holy. Heavenly. Angelic is what it is. Bathing everything it touched in love, peace, and a calm serenity. Giving what little warmth it could to all it touched, protecting them from the night's chill. What lovely light. Mesmerizing. Oh how they wished for nothing more than to lay in it, soak it all in, and never leave. Just like _him_. 

Their Angel. His glow could light up even the darkest of nights. They way he looks at every book, cake, and puppy. They know he has boundless love to give the world. He would protect it all if he could. That selfless Angel. The Angel who gave his sword - his only light and warmth and protection - away. Gave it away to fill the need of others. Their kind-hearted Angel. Like the light of the moon, they wanted nothing more than to bask in their Angel's presence. His love. 

And look. Look at how the light cuts through the curtains. Divides them in two with ease. Watch how their Angel weakens their walls, their defenses. Watch how their Angel cracks the casing around their heart until his light can shine through. Watch as their Angel lights up the darkness within them. Silver moonlight and black curtains. An Angel and a Demon. 

The pain was back. The fire. Burning their throat, their eyes. Tears did nothing to soothe this burn. The embers of love. Unrequited love. It burns you from the inside out. Turns yours walls to ash. Smothers your defenses. Melts your heart. Licks up your soul until your blood bubbles and boils. Smokes out the rational and logical thoughts in your brain. It ignites ever painful nerve until you're aware of the air on your skin. 

You'll burn alive if you're not careful. You'll burn if you're not immortal. You'll burn if you're not a Demon. 

But they are. They are a Demon. One of God's Fallen. They burned once before. When they fell. The fire singed their wings black as smoke. Their eyes turned yellow as flame. Their hair as red as heat. They burned despite the air. They burned despite the tears they shed. They burned and burned. 

They burned. But not like this. No, this was worse. 

The bottle on the floor appeared in their hand as the curtains snapped shut. With the moonlight gone the room plunged into darkness. A snap and the bottle was full. A gulp and it was half empty. Salt mingled with alcohol on their lips. They didn't care. Hell was created for souls to be punished for their sins on Earth. 

Earth was created to torture the souls of Demons.

This was a type of Hell they could never escape. No amount of running, or drinking, or sleeping, or tempting could help them escape the pain. The burning. The fire. This Hell followed them. It was connected to every thought, every touch, every memory. They were never free. Never safe. 

But they had a secret. 

They don't mind Hell. Yeah they're a Demon, but that's not why. See, they crave the holiness of Heaven. And well...

There's nothing holier than suffering in the name of love. 

* * *


End file.
